


Grindstone

by Grey (grey853)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M, Series: Grindstone, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 04:31:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey853/pseuds/Grey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Blair is in a serious accident, Jim has to confront a whole long list of fears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grindstone

## Grindstone

by Grey

Author's webpage: <http://grey.ravenshadow.net/>

* * *

Author's disclaimer: The guys aren't mine, never will be. I'm not happy about it, but there it is.

Author notes and warnings: Be warned ahead of time here, folks, Jim doesn't come off in a good light through most of this one. Some might argue that Jim could never be an alcoholic, but I beg to differ. I think he has a lot of traits of the closet drinker. Then again I think Jim as the traits for doing a lot of things in a closet. 

* * *

"Hey, Jim, I thought you and Simon were going to the Jags game tonight." Blair stood in the hallway, combing his long curls back from his face while watching his partner flip though a police file. 

"Yeah, we were, but something came up." Jim didn't look around at his friend, his voice still casual. 

"But you were really looking forward to it this morning when you were talking to Brown." 

Jim glanced up. "You listening in on my conversations, Chief?" He said it lightly, teasing, but at the same time curious. 

"Hey, man, I'm sitting right there, you two talk, I hear. Simple acoustics." 

"Riiight." He said it in that special Ellison way of dragging out the i's that really meant he didn't believe a word. 

"What happened? You were really up for it." 

"Yeah, it would've been a good game, but Joan called and wanted Simon to take Daryl for the night and then drop him at his grandmother's house later on." 

"So? Why couldn't Daryl just go with you two?" Blair finished tying back his hair and walked over to sit on the edge of the couch. He straddled the armrest, one leg bouncing while the other stretched the denim tightly across his firm thigh. Jim licked his bottom lip and swallowed uneasily as he forced himself to go back to his file. 

"Only had two tickets. Yeah, I could've probably snagged another, but Simon and Daryl could use some time together alone." 

Smiling, Blair punched his partner playfully on the shoulder. "Cool, man. Jim Ellison, fine supporter of the father and son moment. I like that." 

Jim nodded, took the compliment in stride, and turned back to working. The heat from his partner's quick touch burned in his skin, tingling the flesh beneath the taut cotton of his sleeve. He raised the cool bottle to his forehead and rolled the wet glass temple to temple. The prospect of another empty evening pounded his skull even earlier than usual. 

"Another headache?" 

"Yeah, but not bad yet. I took some aspirin. All that screaming by Jensen for his lawyer down at the station wears on the heightened senses." 

"But you're sure you're okay?" 

"I'm fine, Chief." 

"Okay." Nodding, satisfied by the answer, Blair rocked a few more times and then asked, "So, man, what are you going to do tonight instead of the game?" 

"You're going out, right?" 

"Yeah, Sam and I are going to a French film she wants to see, why?" 

"Just wondered." He paused a moment, took another drink, and then asked, "I was also wondering why she gets to always plan the evening whenever you two go out." 

"What are you talking about?" 

"Well, Wednesday it was the poetry reading, and Monday the lecture on feminist movements in third world nations or something. Don't you ever get to pick what you two do?" 

A sly grin brightened the young face. "Oh, yeah man, all the time, right after we get back to her place." 

Jim frowned and shook his head. "You're a dog, Chief." 

"Come on, man. You're just jealous 'cause you've got no sex life." 

"My sex life is none of your business." The voice came out stony, the sharp edges rough. 

Blair missed the cue and just grinned bigger, his hands held up in a forgive me for living gesture. "Come on, man. Lighten up. I was just joking. So, seriously, what are you going to be doing tonight while Sam and I are busy? 

He flipped another page, ignoring the twinge in his heart at the mention of the words Sam and busy in the same sentence. "Thought I'd just stay here and get caught up a little. You know, check the dashes and codes. Saves time on the job." 

"Jim, it's Friday night, man." 

"Your point, Sandburg?" Wary, Jim stood up and went to get another beer, his third in an hour. A slight buzz reduced his vision, a sensation he'd started to enjoy more and more lately. Dials worked easier if the senses started out dull already. Ignoring the little warning voice in the back of his head, he opened the refrigerator and grabbed another bottle. 

"Jim, you haven't been out on a date in like forever, man. I just thought maybe since there's no game, maybe, you know, you might call somebody." 

"Who would I call?" 

"Jim, come on. There are like lots of women at the station who'd be on you in a heartbeat if you ever bothered to ask them." 

"Cut it out, Chief." 

"What? I'm serious man. I'll bet if you called Angie from down in records, she'd be ready in an hour. She's like really hot to go out with you, man." 

"And you know this how?" 

"God, Jim, for a sentinel you don't use your senses for the important stuff much. She's turned on like crazy every time you even come close. Hell, you smiled at her the other day when we went for the Santos file and I thought she'd faint. Didn't you notice at all?" 

"No, not really, Chief. I'm not like you. Being on the make all the time is too tiring. She's not my type anyway. Besides, I'm a lot older and a lot more picky than I used to be." 

"Picky? Man, Angie's a babe, Jim. What's up with that?" 

Tilting his head, a deadpan look on his face, Jim leaned against the counter. He did a quick twist with the bottle top and then took a swallow. He worked at looking amused. "You playing matchmaker now?" 

Turning, no longer riding the armrest, Blair shrugged, the playfulness gone from his voice. "Of course, not. Not my deal. It's just, I don't know, man. I feel kind of guilty leaving you here alone so much lately." 

"Guilty? Why?" 

"I don't know. It's just I seem to be so busy, and all you do is work, come home, and go back to work. Jim, I hate to break it to you, man, but you've got like no social life." 

"Unlike you, right?" 

"Well, yeah, I make time to see women, too. I personally don't know how you stand going so long, you know without, well, you know." He made the annoying fucking gesture with his fist that always made Jim queasy. For Blair sex filled a natural, physical need, an enjoyable activity one could do casually, no commitment, no strings. For Jim sex meant something far more important than just fucking. He hated the fact that Blair's uncomplicated view of sex complicated his own. 

All the ideas of sex versus love thrown together in the same fantasies with Blair confused him. He couldn't think straight anymore. Uncontrolled visions of lovemaking, kissing and thrusting, touching and holding, sweet words and his guide's soothing voice, they all flooded his mind sometimes, and that scared him. 

Trying to focus past the muting effects of the beer, he ignored the comments about his sex life. Jim took another small swallow, avoiding eye contact before he spoke. "So, are you and Sam getting serious, Chief?" 

"What? Where's that coming from?" 

"Well, you're right about being gone a lot lately. You've been out with her three times this week alone. I do believe that's a record even for your favorite girl Samantha." 

"That's pretty funny coming from a guy who hasn't dated the same woman twice." 

Focusing in on his guide's sudden nervousness and the increased tension in his voice, Jim asked again. "You didn't answer my question, Chief. Are you and Sam starting to get serious?" 

Staring down at his shoes, running a hand through his hair, Blair let his butt slide backwards, swinging his legs around and down as he settled into the corner of the couch. He stared out the window. "Depends on what you mean by serious, Jim. If you mean do I take my time with her seriously, yeah. If you mean am I in love with her, no." 

Unsure whether to be pleased or just relieved, Jim crossed his ankles as he shifted against the counter. "I didn't mean to get too personal." 

"Too personal? Jim, you're my best friend. If you can't ask, no one can. Question is, why are you asking?" 

"No reason. Just curious." 

"Just curious? I've dated Sam off and on for almost three years. We have a good time, but Sam and I are both happy to just be friends." 

"Friends who just happen to sleep together." 

"Yeah, well, it's better than sleeping with strangers or jerking off." 

"You sleep with strangers?" The thought tightened his stomach, his gut clenched at the thought. 

"Not lately, but yeah, it's always an option. Pick ups aren't my thing much, but it happens." 

"It's dangerous, Chief. I'll have to tell you about my life in vice some time when we've got a couple of weeks to kill." 

"I said I don't do that anymore. What's the problem, Jim? Why do you sound pissed off about it?" 

"I'm not pissed off. It's none of my business." 

"So, if you think that, why are you asking now?" 

"I'm a detective. I get curious. Sue me." Mouth tight, he recognized his own defensiveness. He hated that he couldn't kick his own ass sometimes. "Sorry. Didn't mean to snap." 

Blair stood and walked over to the table. He sat down and after a few minutes of tense silence, he spoke quietly, his voice very serious. "Jim, I really would like to know why it seems to bother you so much when I date Sam. It never seems to bother you when I'm dating somebody new." 

"Who said it bothered me? Why should I care who you date?" 

"It shouldn't, but don't forget who you're talking to here, Jim. I'm your guide, remember? I can tell when you're upset and lately every time I get ready to go out, you start drinking and get all quiet." 

Even more uncomfortable with his friend's intense scrutiny, he stood up a bit straighter, consciously filtering the nervousness from his voice. "Drinking? Are you trying to tell me that you think I'm drinking too much?" 

"I didn't say that. But it does amaze me that for a guy who can't even take a cold pill, you can put away a six pack and barely show it. In fact, I can only tell it affects you because your movements get even more precise than when you're sober. That and your eyes." 

"My eyes?" 

"Yeah. They get this really distant look. Not like the zone out, but like you're staring at something really sad and far away. You look just plain lonely, Jim. I don't like thinking about you feeling that way, man." 

"Is there a reason we're even talking about this, Chief?" 

"I want to know what's going on with you lately, and don't tell me it's nothing." 

"Then I guess I've got nothing to say, because it is nothing. Now, don't you have to go pick up Sam or something?" He stepped away from the counter, intent on heading upstairs until his partner left. Blair stood up and blocked his path, his hand on his chest. The searing touch surged his heart to beat faster. 

"Don't do that, man. Don't lock me out here. Something's going on and you need to tell somebody." 

Pushing the hand away, a quick anger reared up. "Get off me, Sandburg. Just go on out and do whatever. I could give a shit who you fuck." 

A direct hit registered, blue eyes widened with shock. The grad student's mouth opened and then closed, words stalled. Blair did a quick turn to leave and then spun back around. "I can't believe you just said that, Jim. Like I said, I don't know what the hell's wrong with you lately, but it must be pretty bad for you to act like such an ass just to get rid of the question." 

Jim straightened up, his back ramrod stiff. "Maybe I just want to be left alone for more than five minutes. Maybe I don't need someone hammering at me all the time, sticking his nose into every part of my life. Maybe you should just take a fucking break from your constant observations, CHIEF. Just back off and leave it the hell alone." The words came out hard, brittle and biting. He wanted to snatch them back, but crossed his arms instead, acting his part, needing to distance himself from the true nature of his own fear, his own anger for being afraid of that truth. 

"Jesus, Jim. What the hell's wrong? I've never seen you act this way." 

"Why don't you leave before you're late again? I'm tired of hearing you bitch about Sam's bitching." 

A glimpse to his guide's face caught a singular hurt that branded his mind with its image. It softened and shifted his own pain in a different direction. He wrapped his arms around his chest, but his voice grew less harsh, more low and gravely. "Look, Chief, I'm sorry. I've got a headache and it's been a shitty week. You know what the Anderson and the Fuches cases were like. I still haven't even finished the paper work on the Meyer's trial yet. It's not you, it's just, I'm tired, okay? I thought I'd get some work done and then go to bed early." 

Taking a deep breath, Blair stuffed his hands down into both pockets, a frown still in place. "Sure, man, whatever. I just think there's something else." 

"There's nothing. Don't keep asking." 

"Yeah, well, when you feel like really talking, man, let me know." 

Heading to the door, he picked up his heavy jacket and touched the knob. "You know, Jim, it wouldn't be so terrible to really trust me." 

"I do trust you, Chief." He found his tongue too thick to say much else, to add the word love to the same sentence. 

"Whatever, man. Anyway, I might be late coming home. See you in the morning." Translated, his guide would sleep with Samantha and not with him. Jim hated his own hatred, his own intense jealousy, wishing for all the world he could just open his mouth and ask his best friend and partner to stay home. But he couldn't. 

"Right." 

As the door shut behind him, Jim soaked in the remnants of sounds of Blair's departure, the steps, the hum of the elevator, the heartbeat growing more distant. Every subtraction reduced his life, added to his own personal empty spaces. The long night waved in front of him, taunting him with the hope of nothing. 

* * *

"Sandburg, if you don't settle back down there, I'm calling a nurse and have her use restraints or something." Simon Banks placed a strong hand on the smaller man's chest to stop him from moving around or rolling over on the examination table. 

"Come on, Simon. I'm just trying to sit up, man. Raise this thing for me." 

Hands now on his hips, his face twisted with worry, the captain shook his head. "No way. Doctor said to lie flat unless you feel sick and then you could use the bowl. Now stay still. Your back and chest are badly bruised, but nothing's broken. It just feels that way. They're getting a room ready." He straightened the covers as he talked. 

"Man, I can't believe this." Too cold and too achy all over, Blair arched his butt up just enough to adjust his position a little to the left, but stopped as stabbing pain shot up his back, every angry nerve bundle begging for attention. He gripped the rail to avoid grinding his teeth into fine dust. "Oh, shit. Man, that hurts." 

"See? Stay still." 

Eyes squeezed shut to focus on easing his own misery, removing himself from it, he suddenly had an insight as to why Jim hated doing his relaxation techniques. They didn't fucking work. Trying to ignore his own agony and the restricting neck brace, he hissed, "How's Sam doing? No one will tell me anything." 

"She's alive thanks to you. Right now they're still trying to stabilize her. She's got a broken left femur, arm, and collarbone. She got a concussion like you have, but she's also got internal injuries. They want her stable though before they'll do surgery. She's in ICU right now." 

"Damn." 

"Why the hell were you driving so fast?" 

"I wasn't driving, Simon, and it wasn't that fast. It was raining and the roads iced up. Then when she took the corner, she lost control and the other car rammed us. Was anyone else hurt?" 

"Driver of the other car walked away with just a few bruises. Nothing serious. He's the one who called for the emergency crew." 

"Guess that's good then." The world shimmered in his head, and he struggled to focus on finding the right language. "Man, it was like over and out without any warning." The flashing spin of memory sent his head into a whirl that threatened to drag him back to darkness. 

A large warm hand touched his shoulder, nudging it gently. 

"Blair, listen. Don't fall asleep. I need to call Jim. I'm not sure why they called me first. I guess my name was on the ID in your wallet or something. I need to get him down here." 

"No, I told them to call you." 

"What? Why not Jim?" Simon rested his hand on the bedding, his face confused. 

"I don't know. I guess because I knew he'd freak. When I got to the ER and first woke up, I just gave them your name." 

"Okay, okay, so I'll just call him now. He should be here in half an hour" 

"No, man. Let him sleep until morning and then call him. I mean, it's not like he can do anything anyway." 

"Blair, what the hell's going on? Why don't you want me to call your partner?" 

"Simon, please, my head hurts, every muscle in my body wants to threaten me at once. Can we talk about this later?" 

"Sure, but in the meantime, I'm calling Jim." 

Blair cleared his throat, trying to avoid the throbbing that even that small movement caused. "Look, Simon, I don't want him driving in this kind of weather, not when he's upset. Maybe you could go pick him up." 

"I can have a patrol car bring him." 

As he started to take out his cell phone, Blair interrupted again, his voice growing weaker from the expense of energy it took to stay awake and not move. 

"Simon, please, I don't think you want to do that." 

"And why not?" 

"Right before I left, we had an argument. He'd already been drinking." 

The words hit the room like steam on ice. "And you're saying you think he may have had more after you left because he was upset?" 

"Maybe. Probably. I don't know for sure, but I'd hate to have Jim embarrassed. I mean, he's off duty. He should be able to drink if he wants." 

"You want to tell me how long this has been going on?" 

"What?" 

"You covering for him. Jim drinking alone. You two fighting. Take your pick." 

"Man, it's not like that. He's been working his ass off the last month and he never gets any down time. Give him a break, Simon." The energy it took to speak strained too many muscles. "Oh, man, I feel rough here." 

"You going to be sick?" 

"No, but passing out doesn't sound all that bad right this second." 

"Don't even joke, Sandburg." 

"I'm not." The spasms eased slightly and he opened his eyes again. Turning his head, he focused on the man beside him. "Simon, I'm not trying to cover for him, honest. I'm just worried. He won't tell me what's wrong, but I know something's really bothering him. I don't want to add to that." 

"Add to it? Blair, do you have any idea what would happen to Jim if something happened to you?" 

"He'd freak out for awhile, but he'd get over it. He's got you and he's got the other guys." 

Simon grunted and shook his head. "You've got the freaking out part right, but I not sure about getting over it. I'm telling you, Sandburg, to be such a smart man, you're pretty damn dumb sometimes." 

Blair cleared his throat so he could speak. "I think that's what they call one of those backhanded compliments, Simon." Swallowing back the nausea, it still wove it's way around his outer edges to sneak up closer. Throwing up would be a definite problem very soon. He tried to hold off the feeling as long as possible by thinking of something else and keeping his eyes half-closed. "What are you talking about? What am I being dumb about?" 

"Jim Ellison is so dependent on you, it scares him to death, but this isn't the time to be talking about all that." He turned and looked past the curtain. "The doctor's right outside the door. Look, I'm going to go pick up Jim and then I'll be back." 

"Simon, I need to know what you mean." 

"Later, Sandburg. The doctor's here." Just as Simon left, Blair closed his eyes and let the medical team start in again, each member trained in the latest techniques of rescue through torture. The first tug to shift him from table to a transport gurney sent him into a world of dark and swirling grey swelling up to swallowing blackness before he could even call out. 

* * *

Jim sometimes wanted to just crush his skull and end the awful pounding. No matter how far down he dialed or how much he drank, it still wouldn't let him sleep. Rolling over again, he tried to cover his head with a pillow and moaned into the fabric. 

"Damn well should be groaning, you sorry son of a bitch." 

The gravely voice pulled him close enough to awareness that he risked light. "You awake, Ellison?" 

"Sir?" 

"Damn right sir. Jesus, Jim. What's wrong with you? Don't answer that. I can see the problem. Hell, you smell like a brewery. Followed the stink right in here." 

Trying to focus, Jim's blurry vision cleared slightly as he sat up and looked directly at his captain towering over him. From personal experience he recognized the kickass expression. "Sir? Why are you here and how did you get in? 

"First off, are you sober enough to understand what I'm saying, because I'll be damned if I'm going to say this more than once." 

Swallowing hard, Jim made a quick self-evaluation. Senses still fuzzy, head swirling slightly, limbs not quite checking in on all levels spelled out less than top quality responses. "I'm not completely sober, but I'm not drunk either." 

"So, do you understand what I'm saying? 

"If you'll say something worth understanding, yeah." 

"Pull a smartass attitude with me Ellison and you're going to have to wipe your punk ass up off the floor. Now sit up straight and listen." 

"Yes, sir." Concentration streamlined his hearing and sight. Simon rarely got this upset even when he deserved it. Damn. "What's wrong, Simon? How'd you get in here?" 

"Jim, Blair's okay, but he was in a car wreck with Samantha." 

Other words followed, but he missed them. His head rocked back, stopped only by the unyielding wall behind Blair's bed. This couldn't happen. He couldn't listen. 

A large hand brought his head up, the heat from the palm dull support against the back of his scalp. He wanted to sleep, to not hear anything else, to wrap himself in a blanket of his guide's rich smells. 

Simon Banks persisted, called and commanded his attention. Old soldier training kicked in, preparing for battle, survival instincts in place. 

"Jim, don't zone on me here. I don't know what to do." 

"I'm okay. Just tell me what happened." 

"You're sure? You want some coffee?" 

"Just tell me. You said Blair's alive?" 

"Yeah. He's got some bad sprains, cuts, and bruises. He must have hurt his back by pulling Samantha from the wreck before the car exploded. He and the other driver saved her life, but she's still in critical condition. Blair's got a concussion and he's in a lot of pain, but he should be okay. No internal bleeding, but the head and back injuries are bad enough to keep him in there for a few days just to be sure." 

"But Blair's a good driver." 

"Yeah, he is, but Sam drove and the streets are icy right now. Anyway, it doesn't really matter." 

Shaking his head, confused, Jim asked, "But why didn't anyone call me? I'm his contact number. I would've been there. 

"Jim, you didn't even hear me banging on the door when I used Blair's key." 

"I was asleep." 

"You were out of it. Drunk, Jim." 

"I'm off duty. I had a few beers, so what?" 

"A few beers? Jim, I'm your captain, but I'm also your friend, though at this moment I'm wondering why that is. You were out of it, and speaking of out of it, why is it that you're passed out down here in Blair's bed? What's that about?" 

"I don't know, Simon. I don't even remember coming down here." 

"You don't remember?" 

"No, I just fell asleep and then you came in." 

"This scares me, Jim. I don't like what I'm hearing or seeing. How long has this kind of thing been going on?" 

Jim shook his head, his senses still blinking in and out, a short circuit effect he hated. "What?" 

"I said how long have you been getting drunk like this?" 

"I don't do it on a regular basis if that's what you're asking." 

"Listen to me, man. What does it tell you that Blair had the hospital call me instead of you? He's lying there all battered up and he's worried about you either getting hurt driving or being embarrassed by being drunk in public. Jesus, Jim, what's going on?" 

"Simon, it's not a problem. I promise. Everything's under control here. Now, let's just go see Blair." 

Simon got up off the bed, stood there, his jaw clenched. Then he nodded. "Okay, but you better believe that this conversation is not over, not by a long shot. Do you understand me, Detective?" 

"Yes, sir. Now, could I please just go see my partner?" 

"Sure, but maybe you should put some clothes on first." 

Jim glanced down and realized for the first time during the entire conversation that he'd sat there in nothing but his boxers, totally oblivious to his mostly nude condition and the damp stain across the front of his shorts. Damn, he'd been dreaming again. 

"Sorry, sir. I'll be back in just a minute." 

"Sure. And Jim?" 

"Yeah." 

"You'd better not pull this shit again. Do you hear me, Ellison?" 

"Yes, sir. I hear you." But hearing wasn't the problem. It never was. 

* * *

Watching Blair sleep in the pale arrival of sunlight could produce a cushion against the world if he let it. Jim stared openly, the young man lying surrounded by monitors and tubes, not stirring, but giving an occasional low moan. Throughout the night nurses and doctors came by to check and change lines, to take vitals, and his guide only woke long enough to respond and go back to sleep, saying the name Jim like a chant, a lifeline until morning. 

"Jim? What's going on?" 

"Hey, Chief." He stood up and stepped to the side of the bed, his own aching body braced against the rail. Reaching down, he carefully touched Blair's hand. "Glad you're finally awake. What do you remember?" 

"An accident, right? God, everything hurts. My head." Shifting over, he grunted and stayed still. "Oh, man." 

"You're going to be okay, Chief. You're banged up pretty bad though. Just settle down and stay still and it'll get better." 

"God, I hope so. Jesus, Jim, it hurts. Everything feels broken." 

"Nothing's broken, just dented. Look, they had to hold down the pain medication because of the concussion and because you keep fading in and out on us. You've got to stay around awhile before they can give you anything more to make it easier." 

Breathing in carefully, Blair didn't even nod. He turned his head only slightly and tried to focus his eyes. "Man, I need my glasses. You look really fuzzy, Jim." 

"I feel fuzzy." 

"Yeah? Simon tell you what happened?" 

"He told me you saved Sam." Jim gently squeezed his guide's hand and drank the warmth up through his fingertips. 

"I don't remember much, high-pitched metal sounds, smelling gas and then this huge panic. We had to get out, and then there was this a gigantic explosion and heat. God it was so hot, Jim." 

Jim rubbed his friend's forearm, the scratches like scarlet webs spoiling his skin. "It's okay now, Chief. Just calm down." 

Rapid breathing and an increased heart rate continued as he worked to form words that made sense. "Sam? How is she? Simon said they were going to do surgery." 

Jim nodded while he reached over and pushed the hair back away from Blair's bruised cheek and temple. He teased the back of his hand with the hint of whiskers and then talked evenly. "She's still in critical condition. They haven't been able to stop all the bleeding. They took out her spleen, but right now it's touch and go. I'm sorry, Chief." 

"Oh, man, Jim. She can't die. You have to do something." The fear and grief in his voice edged the words like swords and knives, each one cutting and painful. 

"I know you love her, Chief, but they're doing all they can." 

"You don't understand, Jim. I do love her, but not the way you think, but it really doesn't matter. If she dies, it'll be my fault, man." 

"It's not your fault, Blair. You weren't even driving." 

"But we were fighting." 

"Doesn't matter. You didn't cause the wreck." The tension in his friend's body increased, his hands twisting the bedding, the feet rubbing against the sheets. "It's not your fault. Now just settle down, Chief. You're going to hurt yourself more." 

"Shit, my back." He ached up, tremors in his arms and legs shaking up though the metal sides of the bed. 

"Lie still, Blair. You can't move around like that yet." 

"I'm not moving. It just hurts so much. I can't control it." A low groan swelled up from his chest into his throat, bending the air with his pain. "God, Jim, make it stop." 

Leaning in, talking softly, Jim shushed his partner while petting his forehead tenderly, each small touch a prayer. "Listen to me, Chief. Just breathe slow and even. Just like you taught me. Listen to my voice and try to relax. You have to relax for me, Blair or you'll only tense up and cause the muscles to spasm even more. Can you just let yourself ease up a little?" 

"Okay, I'm trying." A cool sweaty sheen layered pale skin. Eyes still shut, his tight muscles loosened slightly, the involuntary twitches and shudders no longer so intense. 

"That's the way, Chief. Just slow and easy like you tell me to do, okay?." After a few more moments, the rising and falling of his chest evened. "Better?" 

"Yeah, thanks, Jim." Blair stopped talking, his whole body slack, each single breath a sign of drifting back into a needed and healing sleep. 

Several minutes later, Jim still stroked back his hair, dark curls making a halo of shadows around the ashen complexion. "God, Chief." He lifted up his partner's hand and kissed it. "What the hell am I supposed to do?" 

"You could start by telling him the truth, Jim." The gruff voice whispered from behind him. 

Jim jerked around, startled. "God, Simon. I didn't know you were standing there." 

"I can see that." 

"What?" 

"Jim, I think we need to go have a long conversation." 

"About?" 

"We might start with how you really feel about your partner." Jim glanced back at Blair, still holding his hand, still wishing he could take every ache, every terror into his own body. 

"I can't leave him." 

"He's resting. We won't be gone that long." As he hesitated, Simon stepped closer, put his arm on his friend's sagging shoulder and guided him to the door. "Come on, Jim. There's a pot of coffee with your name on it downstairs." 

* * *

"Here, take these." Simon put the bottle of aspirin on Jim's tray and then poured some cream into his coffee. 

"I don't need anything. Thanks." 

"Jim, you want to be a martyr, suffer for your sins, fine, but you look like your head's going to explode any minute. Do us both a favor and take the damn aspirin." 

"Yes, sir." Too tired to argue, Jim stood up, went to the counter, and got himself a large glass of water, his movements mechanical, his face stolid. Sitting back down, he took out three pills, popped them in, and washed them down. As soon as he put the glass on the table, he met his captain's intense eyes. "You happy now?" 

"Do I look happy?" 

He studied the serious dark face, the sad eyes focused. The expression of concern both touched and scared him. He bowed his head and stared into the oily black surface of the hospital coffee. "No, sir. Happy wouldn't be the word I'd choose." 

"Me either. Now, Jim, we've known each other for a long time. I'm not going to sit here and lecture. I'm here to listen because I think you've got some serious things that need to be said." 

Both hands gripped around the cup, Jim shrugged. "Simon, I'm not sure I can talk about this." 

"Why not? You don't trust me to understand whatever it is that's wearing you down? Jim, I know you. You've been acting strange for the last few weeks. I noticed it, but I thought it was just the job, but now I don't think so. Now I think it's a whole different problem going on. Talk to me, man. Tell me what's going on with you." 

"Simon, it's personal." 

"No shit." Before Jim could say anything, the older man leaned forward against the table, his voice low and even. "Okay, let me lay out the facts as I see them, Detective. You've been drinking alone for awhile now. I know this because Blair knew it." 

"He told you that?" 

"No, but it was obvious that he expected you to be unable to drive yourself to the hospital. He also said you had a fight before he left for his date with Sam. You want to tell me what that was about?" 

"Not really, no." 

"Okay, then let's go to the fact that when I get to your place to bring you to the hospital, you're mostly naked, drunk, and lying wasted on your partner's bed, his pillow the obvious object of your desire." 

Jim's head jerked up, startled. "What?" 

"You heard me, Jim. Do you really want me to detail what I saw you doing when I walked in because you were too drunk to answer the door?" 

"Shit." Blushing fire would've been less painful. "No, sir." 

"Good. Now, I think we both know you love Blair as your partner, but is it possible that it's more than that and you're afraid of what that means? You said you didn't remember how you got down to his bed after you went to sleep. Is it possible that the idea of loving your partner scares you so much that you're repressing it like you've repressed other things in your life?" 

"I don't know, Simon. I guess it's possible. I don't know why I'd be walking in my sleep like that." 

"Jim, when I came in, you weren't walking." The pause between them tensed the air to brittle glass. When his friend didn't answer, Simon pushed harder. "The thing is, would it be such a sin if you were in love with Blair?" 

"Some people might think so." 

"Some people think its a sin if I date a woman who isn't black, Jim. Doesn't mean I buy into it." 

"It's not the same thing." 

"Isn't it? Prejudice isn't restricted to race or preference or religion. I guess what's bothering me most about this is that I never figured you'd be the type to give a shit about other people's biases." 

"Simon, if I were in love with Blair, it wouldn't scare me so much because of what people think about it. It would scare me because of what Blair would think about it." 

"What? I don't understand." 

"Blair's not gay. As far as I know he's not even bisexual, but even if he were, I'd still be scared shitless about risking anything beyond friendship." 

"Why's that?" 

"Because for Blair, being with one person, loving just one person, doesn't work. He told me once he's never really been in love, not even with Maya. Simon, I don't doubt that Blair cares for me. Hell, all I'd have to do is ask, and he'd probably sleep with me." 

Simon wrinkled his forehead as if trying to figure out an incomplete puzzle. He rubbed his jaw, his voice even lower than usual. "Really? You think so?" 

"Yeah. He'd call it research and then probably use it in his paper. Might even try to figure out if there's a genetic predisposition for sentinels to want to fuck their guides or some shit." 

"That's a cold way to look at it, Jim. Do you really think Blair feels that way?" 

"He's a scientist, Simon. We forget that sometimes, but he's always observing and taking notes about everything that has to do with my being a sentinel." 

"You sound pissed." 

Jim gave a weak smile for the first time in the conversation. "No, not really. I should be used to it by now. I'm his project, Simon. I know I'm also his friend, but sometimes, well, sometimes it's hard to accept that he doesn't seem to need this relationship as much as I do." 

Simon took a quick drink of coffee and then shook his head. "I think you're wrong, Jim. Blair's invested a lot of his life with yours. Do you really think he could just have sex with you and not take it seriously?" 

"Yeah, I do. Sex wouldn't be a problem for him, but it would be for me. He separates sex and intimacy. I can't do that. I don't want to sleep with someone I don't really care about. I want to believe that the person I'm making love to might just be the one. Can you understand that?" 

"Sure I do. I feel the same way. And you're positive Blair doesn't feel that way, too?" 

"Simon, he can't commit. That's the part I can't handle. If I let him know how I feel, if I give in and sleep with him, I couldn't stand it when he dated other people." 

"What makes you so sure he'd want to date?" 

"Because he can't help himself, Simon. You've seen him." Jim slumped back against his chair, he blue eyes less focused than usual. His whole body sagged down from the weight of worry and fear, each muscle more tired and heavy with passing seconds. 

"Yeah, I have seen the kid work. He's a dog." Looking up, he shrugged. "Sorry, Jim, but he is. I'm not saying that to be judgmental, but he does have a tendency to like variety." 

"Yeah, and he gets it. You're right. I do love him, but I can't handle that part. I admit it. I'm a coward." 

"You're not a coward, Jim. You're human. Hell, I'd be scared shitless if I fell in love with someone like Sandburg." 

"Excuse me?" 

"Jim, don't get me wrong. He's a great person in a lot of ways, but his love life is a train wreck waiting to happen. I'd hate to be the person he runs over." 

"And that would be me, right?" Jim sat back up, his lower spine throbbing from sitting all night against hospital plastic. 

"Well, from here the track marks are pretty plain. So, okay, I can understand doing everything you can to stop this thing, to deny it as long as possible, but there comes a time when you have to stop. Jim, your drinking is affecting you. You're forgetting, losing control. You're not happy. Things have to change." 

"I know that." One hand rubbed across his lips, staying there to muffle his own breathing. 

"So what do you plan to do about it?" 

"I don't know. Right now I just need for him to be okay." 

"And then?" 

"I don't have an answer for that, Simon." 

"Well, whatever you decide, you'd better make sure it includes never drinking like that again. I don't say this easily, but I have to tell you, that when you act like that, it scares me. I see the old Jim, the man I could lose very easily to a bottle." 

"Sometimes I feel lost already, Simon. I really do. Lost and worn down to nothing." His dull voice scraped the air, each vibrating word a blade slicing through stunned flesh. 

"Jim, you need to talk to Blair about this." 

"I know. I will when he's better." 

"Okay, but maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing to get better together. He might surprise you if you tell him what's bothering you. He's really worried." 

"I'll think about it." 

"Think really hard, Jim. I don't want to lose my best detective or my friend." 

"You're not going to lose me, Simon." 

"Yeah? Well, you didn't see yourself last night. I did." 

"Simon, I've never been drunk on the job." 

"But you've been hung over. Tell him the truth, Jim." 

"And if I don't?" Jim glanced up, his eyes locked to Simon's. 

"Then be prepared for random drug tests and mandated counseling along with extra supervision and restricted duty." 

"What?" 

"You heard me, Jim. I've gone along with this sentinel stuff and it's worked out great. You and Sandburg are the best team I've ever seen, but this could end it. This whole last month you've been working non-stop on the pit bull thing and yet I've gotten more complaints from coworkers and staff about your behavior than ever before. You know you've been surly and unreasonable. I thought you were just tired, needed a rest. But this is different. If you're drinking or you're too distracted by these feelings, you could get hurt, you could hurt someone else. I can't risk that. Take care of it, Jim. Straighten it out soon, or I'll have to do something neither of us wants." 

Jim rocked back against his chair, shocked. "Do you have any idea what that would do to my career?" 

"I know exactly what it would do, Jim." 

You'd do that?" 

"If I have to, yes." 

"Damn, Simon. I don't believe you." 

"You'd better believe me because you know I'm not kidding. Jim, I'm more worried about you than your career. Don't make everybody lose in this situation because you can't deal with scary feelings." 

"And if he turns me down?" 

"Then you'll know for sure one way or the other and work through it." 

Jim turned away from his friend, bracing his left arm on the table, the other on the back of the chair. Staring down at the floor, each speck of dust became an invitation to zone out, an easy escape from everything else that threatened him. Then he heard the familiar smooth voice of his guide calling, a phantom plea to come back, to at least ask the question he so needed to ask. Without saying another word, he stood up and headed for the elevator. Truth lay in a bed on the fourth floor sleeping, holding his future like promises on untamed lips. 

* * *

"Oh, man, this sucks." The complaints and rustle of sheets against skin brought Jim to stand by the bed. 

"Morning, Chief." 

"God, Jim, what morning is it?" 

"Sunday. Feel any better?" He studied the pale face greyed with stubble, the blue eyes drug-dazed and clouded. 

"What happened to Saturday?" The words stumbled out, slurred and awkward. 

"Sleeping mostly. Remember any of it?" 

"Not much. Everything is sort of jammed up like a bad dream or something. I still can't see right." Running his tongue along the lower lip, he swallowed hard dry air. "I'm thirsty, man." 

"Here, let me raise the bed some." Jim pushed the button and heard the slow whirling sound, motor and metal dancing. 

"Whoa, head rush, man. Slow down." He closed his eyes and put a hand to his face. 

"Sure, Chief. Hold on. We're getting there. You okay?" 

"Yeah, I'm all right. It's better. Thanks. It doesn't hurt as much today." He lowered his arm and again tried to focus in his friend's direction. "Got to get my glasses, Jim. I can't see you worth shit." 

"It's the medication, muscle relaxants and Demerol. You're pretty doped up, Sandburg. Don't worry about it. I look the same as always." 

"How about me?" He gave lopsided grin as if posing for a camera. 

"Sorry, but you look pretty much like shit, Chief." 

"Gee, man, thanks." Scratching his head absently with one hand, he let the other stay in his lap, limp and lazy. 

Jim smiled, soaking in the casual banter between them. He poured a small glass of water and held the straw close to his guide's chapped lips. "Here. Drink this. Slowly." When Blair tried to take it, he held on. "No, you're still weak." 

"Jim, come on, man, I can hold a cup." He clumsily tried to take the container, but fumbled against the older man's bigger hand 

"Chief, you can't even hold your eyes open yet. Now, just drink, okay?" 

Reluctantly, he sipped several times, stopping and licking his lips, the working of his tongue and throat muscles an exaggeration of his normal movements. After drinking about half, he stopped. "Thanks." 

"No problem. Let me know when you want more. There's some apple juice here the nurse brought earlier." Jim dragged his chair closer to the edge of the bed and sat back down, his own fatigue pulling at him. 

Blair studied him a few moments, squinting first one eye and then the other, trying to zero in on his partner. "You been here all night?" 

"Yeah." 

"No wonder you look tired." 

"Thought you couldn't see me, Chief?" Jim tilted his head, watching Blair watching him, his eyes slightly crossed, obviously not clearly focused. 

"Actually, man, I see two big blurry blobs, but I can see enough to know you should go home and get some sleep." 

"Maybe later, but not yet. I'm hoping maybe you'll be out of here by tomorrow, Tuesday at the latest." 

"Me, too." Rubbing an awkward hand over his face, Blair closed his eyes again and then asked softly. "What about Sam?" 

Prepared for the question, Jim stood back up and took his guide's hand. "She's in a coma right now, still critical, but her vitals have at least stabilized. They've been able to stop the internal bleeding. Her mother and step-dad came in from San Fransico last night. All we can do now is wait and hope she wakes up." 

"What did the doctors say about that?" 

"They said they'd rather have her wake up sooner than later." 

"In other words, the longer she's unconscious, the worse the chances." 

"Yeah, pretty much. I'm sorry, Chief." Blair's hand squeezed Jim's, the raw emotions in his face tormenting already bruised flesh. 

"I should've kept my mouth shut, man. It's my fault." His bottom lip pinched to near bleeding between gnawing teeth. 

"You said that before, Blair. Why?" 

"We were fighting." While one hand twisted the sheet, the other still lay wrapped in Jim's firm grasp. 

"You and Sam always fight. Why's that your fault?" 

"When she gets mad, she doesn't always pay attention. I should've shut up or told her to let me drive. I knew the roads were icy." 

"Chief, come on, don't beat yourself up. You didn't cause what happened." After a few moments of quiet, Jim asked, "What was the fight about anyway?" An involuntary twitch within his palm signaled Blair's reaction. "What was it?" 

"She told me I needed to make up my mind about some things." 

"What things?" 

Blair's voice changed, grew softer, more unsure. "She thinks I'm wasting my time hanging around with you." Before Jim responded, Blair held his hand tighter. "Don't be mad. She just doesn't know about the sentinel thing, Jim. She doesn't understand how much you need me. She thinks..." 

"She thinks what, that I'm using you or something?" Jim studied the way his guide glanced away, how his forehead knotted with fear. "Come on, Chief. Tell me." 

"She thinks the reason I can't commit to her or anyone else is because I'm in love with you." 

Several heart skips later, Jim found his wayward tongue. "She thinks that?" 

"Yeah. And she got pissed off because I wouldn't shut up." 

"Shut up about what?" 

"About you. She says that's all I talk about, Jim this and Jim that. I don't mean to, but I was worried about you, man. Guess I must've said too much, because she just snapped." 

"And this all happened while you were driving home?" 

"No, it started before the movie. It just got worse in the car. She told me I needed to figure out what was really going on and do something about it or just,..., no, I won't say that. She didn't really mean it, man. She was just pissed." 

"Say what, Chief? Why was she so angry?" 

"I don't know." He turned his head away, his eyes avoiding any contact. 

"Now you're lying. Tell me, Blair. What did she say you needed to do? 

"She said I should just fuck you and get it out of my system so I could make up my mind about how I really feel." 

Air fled the room for awhile before either man could speak. After a few more moments, Jim whispered. "And how do you really feel?" 

"I don't know. Confused, I guess." 

"Confused about what? About me, our relationship, what?" 

"Both, I guess. I'm not sure what's going on with you lately, Jim, but I keep getting the feeling that I've done something really awful, but I don't know what." 

"You haven't done anything awful, Blair. It's me. I'm the one who's messed up here, not you. I'm sorry that I've made you feel that way." 

"Messed up? About what, man? Why won't you tell me what's going on? This drinking thing scares me, Jim. It's not like you." 

"Yeah, I know. I'm not going to do that anymore." Jim bowed his head as guilt drew his whole body in on itself, shoulders drooped, eyes staring inwardly at his own crimes. 

"You sure?" 

"Yeah, I know it got a little out of hand. Besides, Simon read me the riot act." 

"Yeah? What'd he say?" 

"He said I needed to get my shit together and stop hiding in a bottle." 

"Hiding from what, Jim?" The older man looked away from the piercing stare aimed in his direction. 

"What do you think?" 

"I don't know. I'm almost afraid to ask again. I've been asking for ages and all I get is you snapping my head off or you getting drunk and walking around in your sleep." 

"You've seen me do that?" 

"Yeah. You came into my room a few times." Blair's thumb rubbed the top of Jim's hand as he spoke, stroking softly, conjuring his own memory. 

"I came into your room? Why didn't you say anything?" 

"You were asleep, Jim. I didn't want to embarrass you about something you obviously couldn't control and didn't remember in the morning." 

"What did I do, Chief?" 

"You got in bed and tried to hold me, to kiss me. At first I thought whoa, this is weird and then I realized you were asleep and I just told you to go on back to your own bed." 

"And did I?" 

"Eventually, yeah." 

"Eventually?" 

"You made me tell you I loved you first." Blair's voice caught on the last words, embarrassed, not quite ready to be spoken 

"Shit." 

"I didn't mind, Jim." Blair glanced up, his eyes dark from the drugs, but more focused. "I do love you. I guess, subconsciously you needed to hear that. I really didn't mind telling you." 

"You love me?" 

"Yeah, I do." Blair looked away, his voice shy again. "Sam thinks you're in love with me, too, but that you're too scared to admit it which is why you've been acting like such an ass lately." 

"I've never said Sam isn't a smart lady." 

Blair glanced up, hopeful, his eyes searching for reassurance. "Are you saying she's right?" 

"Yeah, I guess I am." 

"Why didn't you say anything, man?" His eyes widened at the sudden revelation from his partner. 

"Why didn't you?" 

"Because I thought you'd freak out on me or tell me to leave. You're not exactly real open about sex and stuff, Jim." 

"I'm not just talking about sex, Chief. You see, that's the problem. I don't want to just have sex, I want to have you, all of you, no friends just having sex deal, but a real relationship. I didn't think you wanted that." 

"You mean you didn't think I could handle it. You think I can't do commitment, right? Monogamy is the M word, right? Sandburg the slut. God, what an arrogant bastard, Jim. You didn't even give me a choice, man." 

"I know. I just thought..." 

"No, you didn't think. You just decided for both of us without even asking. Jim, man, I love you, but that sucks." His head fell back against the pillow, his mouth open and suddenly gulping for extra air. "Oh, man, I think I'm going to be sick here. Oh, god." 

Jim rushed to put the bowl under his chin while Blair leaned forward, his knees pulled up as the heaving started. The uncontrolled contractions brought up only water, the retching sounds mixed with moans. After a few minutes, he settled back, his skin cool and damp. "Better?" 

"I guess. God, I feel like shit." As Blair closed his eyes, Jim put the bowl down and went to the restroom to get a damp cloth. 

"Here. See how this feels." He wiped the forehead and around the cheeks, the warm cloth obviously soothing the tight lines of the face. "Want me to get a nurse?" 

"No, man. I'm okay. I just got nauseous for a minute. Must be the drugs or something. I know we need to talk, Jim, but, man, I am like so totally wasted here. Sorry, man, I can't keep my eyes open." His voice drifted and wavered, more light and feathery with each word. 

"It's okay, Chief. Sleep. We'll talk more later." 

"I hear that." 

Jim watched closely as his guide fell deeper and deeper into sleep. Tenderly he stroked the face, the beard imprinting each whisker as a loving memory. His index finger traced the outline of the puffy lower lip, the smooth skin dry silk against his own eager flesh. Blair loved him. God, he wanted this to work. He also wanted to run like crazy, run right back to the deepest, darkest part of the jungle where love and its dangers didn't have time to haunt and invade his dreams. In the jungle nothing could make him dream of something better and then make him lose it. He could be safe. 

* * *

"So, Jim, you want to talk about being in love with me again or just keep talking about the sad state of the criminal justice system in America some more?" The words traveled as lightly through the air as a casual comment about the weather, but landed as solid as a wrecking ball against Jim's chest. 

He sputtered into his coffee before he answered, "What?" 

"You heard me. I've been out of the hospital for three whole days now, Sam's awake and getting better, and you're playing the same old catch me if you can Ellison's not talking about his feelings game. Excuse me if I'm wrong here, and I know I got pumped up with a lot a heavy duty drugs and shit, but didn't you say something about being in love with me when I was in the hospital?" 

Trying to act nonchalant for no good reason except that he didn't know what to say, Jim shrugged. "I think I might have mentioned it in passing." 

"See, I knew I didn't dream it." 

"No, you didn't dream it, Chief. I said it. I meant it. What else should I say?" 

"What else?" Exasperated, Blair shifted to sit up straighter on the couch, his stiffness obvious. He kneaded the small of his back, the pain still halting his free movement even though he continued to talk even faster. "Don't you think it might be important to figure out what we're going to do about it? I mean this changes everything, Jim. Come on, man. I know you hate talking about things, but I've kept my mouth shut for like four whole days since you told me, hoping against hope, you'd finally say something, but hell, I might as well wait for my mom to marry a cop." 

The reference to Naomi and her aversion to the police force got a smile. "I won't make you wait that long. Honest. It's just I wasn't sure what to say, so I figured I'd let you lead on this one." 

Nodding, his expression suddenly very serious, Blair patted the cushion beside him. "Well then, bring yourself over here, Jim. I promise to keep my hands to myself unless I get an invitation. Won't bite either, unless you ask. Safe enough for you, Detective?" 

"Smartass." 

"Yeah, well, I've been enrolled in the Ellison school of sarcasm for awhile now, and I'm finally starting to catch on. Besides these Percocets are making my head float around and my tongue fly faster and faster. Then all of a sudden it just wants to quit. It's weird." He held a hand to his right temple as if balancing against thin air. 

"You okay?" 

"Hell, yeah. I do feel kind of funny though, kind of numb, but not numb. I could run a steel spike through my head with this stuff and not even care. It's pretty good shit if I do say so myself." 

Jim didn't like the wild look in his partner's eyes one bit. "You're seriously stoned, Chief." 

"Yep." 

"I thought you went for natural cures like heat packs and teas and things." 

"Yeah, well, that was before I got my back hammered. It's all well and good to talk about natural cures when you don't feel like you've been half-kicked to death by some crazed mother fucker in steel-toed biker boots. After that, well, I caved, man. I hurt too much and this shit makes it almost bearable." Blair leaned back and rested his head on the couch. "I think my tongue's landing. Hope it doesn't crash." 

"Maybe we should hold off on a serious conversation until you feel better." 

"I'm okay, Jim. Really, man." He opened his eyes and smiled, his lips curled and suddenly lazy. "Now, would you please, come and sit down. My head's spinning from twisting around trying to keep track of where you're hiding." 

"I'm not hiding, Chief. You want me to heat some tea first?" 

"Jim, quit stalling, man." 

Reluctantly, like someone going to the dentist after a decade of foolish neglect, he took a few steps and settled next to his partner. "Okay, Chief, what should we talk about?" He sat in the farthest corner, one hand on the armrest, the other across the back. 

"Well, for starters, just try to relax. You've been all stiff and uneasy ever since I got out of the hospital. Why is that?" 

"That's in your head. I'm fine." 

"Yeah, maybe, but I've noticed you haven't had anything to drink either. Is that because of Simon?" 

"Partly. Mostly because it's a crutch I don't want to lean on anymore." 

"What kind of crutch?" From the corner of his vision, Jim saw his friend studying him, his head tilted, dark blue eyes unfocused but on target. The distraction caught him off guard. "Jim, what kind of crutch?" 

"The kind that dulled my senses. I have to admit I liked that. Made it easier to dial down when you'd go out." 

"Is that why you were drinking so much, because you missed me?" 

"I didn't want to think about it." 

"It?" 

"Yeah, it, the whole package, my feelings, thinking about what you were doing with someone else, what I wanted, what I didn't want. To be honest, now that you know, I don't feel like drinking so much anymore." 

"Good. I hate to tell you this, Jim, but you weren't very nice when you drank too much, pretty much an asshole really, nothing personal, man but it's the truth. Boy, is the room warm or what?." 

"It's not warm." 

"You sure, 'cause I see steam all around your head, man." 

"It's not warm, Blair. Just settle down." 

"Settle down? I am settled down. Totally. Yep, you were a real ass, Jim. Mean, too." 

"I'm sorry about being an ass, Chief." 

"It's okay. I've been an ass once or twice or twenty. It's over. Besides, it's a little hard to come down on you too hard when I'm totally wasted while I'm just sitting here." 

"Blair, seriously, maybe you should just got to bed. We'll talk about this when you're more clear-headed." 

"No, man, I need to get this sorted out. It's all jumbled up and I need to understand some things before I go to sleep again." 

"What things, Chief?" 

"Promise you won't get pissed if I ask you to repeat stuff later?" 

"Promise." 

"Good, because my brain is blinking on and off. Just bear with me, okay?" 

"Okay." 

Running his hand through his hair and biting his lip, Blair took a few moments before speaking. "So, you've got no problem with this whole situation? You're just really cool with being in love with another guy, right?" 

Jim drank some of his coffee and stared out the window. "I didn't exactly say that." 

"What did you say?" 

"I said I'm in love with you, Chief. I didn't say I understood it, or what I want to do about it. I'm not sure how I feel about the guy-guy thing yet. I've never done this. I'm not very good at the guy-girl thing either, so don't think it's just that." 

Blair reached his hand up and rested it on Jim's, his fingers gently stroking the tendons up to his wrist. The touch sent power surging up through his arm, shoulder, down through his chest, all the way to his groin. "God, Chief." He closed his eyes, the contact a focal point, an epicenter for a series of waves enclosing him in a warm wash of pleasure. 

"Jim?" The word finally broke through to his hearing. "Man, you've never zoned on my touch before, man. What happened?" 

"I don't know. It's just been awhile I guess." 

"Hell, I guess so." 

"Sorry. I've got it dialed down now. It's okay." He reached out to reestablish contact, taking the smaller hand in his, memorizing each vein, each raised bone, the nails, every hair. Pressure against his own palm registered the life line, the heal of the thumb, each callous, all of which transfused a wonderful heat that enticed him. 

"Jim, you listening, man?" 

"Yeah, Chief, I hear you, it's just that you have the greatest hands. Anybody ever tell you that?" 

"Not while they were still, no." 

Jim glanced up to catch the twinkle in his guide's eyes, a naughty smile to punctuate his joke. But he didn't laugh or smile. He didn't want to think of the others his partner touched, so he closed his eyes. Blair's other hand pressed against his shoulder. "What's wrong, Jim?" 

"I'm sorry, Chief. I just don't want to mess this up." 

"Jim, look at me." When they made eye contact, Blair asked, "Why do you think that's going to happen? Why don't you think we can make it?" 

"Blair, we're so different. I could make a long list of all the ways we drive each other crazy, but we could get past all that. I can't get past the other part, the part that makes me think that you can't stay with just one person, especially when that person's me." 

Sitting back against the sofa, Blair raised a hand, his face flushed. "Hold up a minute, Jim. What do you mean especially when it's you? I mean, I know you think I'm a dog and everything, but what makes you think that I couldn't be faithful to you of all people?" 

"I didn't say you were a dog, Chief." 

"Yeah, you did, but we'll talk about that little bit of slander later, Jim. Right now I want to know why you think you aren't good enough or some such shit that I don't have a clue about. What's going on in that strange brain of yours, man?" 

Taking a deep breath, Jim spoke very carefully, avoiding eye contact. "Well, first off I'm a guy." 

"So?" 

"So, have you ever been with a guy?" 

"Yeah, so?" 

"You have?" Jim studied his friend, surprised, his gut clenched in a familiar jealous fist. 

"Well, it wasn't a whole army or anything, but yeah, I've slept with a few guys before, not at the same time though. It wasn't anything serious, just friends doing friends, seeing what it was like." 

"And you enjoyed it?" 

"Oh, yeah, man. It can be better than with a woman if it's with the right guy, you know." 

"No, I don't know, Chief." 

"Jim, are you telling me that with all the time you spent in the military, you never once made it with a guy, not even a hand job?" 

"That's what I'm saying." Jim's jaw twitched, his emotional army suddenly wanting to build a defensive perimeter around his whole being. 

"Really? Jesus, Jim, no wonder you can go so long without getting any. Wow." 

"Blair." 

"What?" The younger man sat there distracted, his drug-fazed mind slowly processing the new information like an unexpected chapter in his sentinel study. 

"Did I ever mention how I hate it when you talk like that." 

"Talk like what, man?" Blair gazed at him truly baffled. 

"When you talk about 'getting any' like it's groceries or something impersonal, casual, without anymore meaning than reading a good book." 

"It bothers you? How come?" 

"Because sex is supposed to be special." 

"Well, hell, yeah, Jim. It's great. I know that." Blair smiled like he'd finally found a favorite topic and received a doctorate all in one. 

Jim closed his eyes, praying for patience to find the words to explain clearly and not go crazy. The rush of body heat as his guide's knee touched his made it really hard to think. "I mean that I want sex to be with just one special person, not a whole list." 

"Ah, now we get to the dog part, right?" Teasing his hand across Jim's thigh brought a groan and a restraining grab of Blair's wrist. 

"No, you don't, Sandburg. I can't think when you do that. I want to explain this to you and I can't do that if you keep that up." 

"It's not up yet, Jim. I checked." 

"God, Chief, just be serious for a minute. I need you to pay attention. I know you aren't as hung up about sex as I am." 

"Thank god." 

"Chief." The warning sounded harsher than he meant, but Blair stopped playing around and settled back to listen. Sitting sideways, he rested his head on back of the couch, he energy fading fast. 

"Okay, man. Are you going to give me the sex is a sin lecture?" 

"No, I don't believe that. But for me it's more important than just getting off and feeling good. It's also about loving the person I'm sleeping with and wanting to make a life with that person. I can't turn it on and off for just anybody, Chief. I want you to be with me, but this is where the selfish part comes it." 

"Selfish part?" 

"Yeah, the part where I tell you I don't want you to be with anybody but me. No more dating, no other partners. Just me. That's what it means when I say I'm in love with you, Blair. It's just you forever, not until someone better comes along, but for always. For me there isn't anyone better than you, ever." 

"Wow, man. That's pretty intense." 

"Too intense?" 

Blair frowned, his face somber as he spoke, each word carefully formed with a stubborn tongue. "I don't know yet. I don't think so though. In fact, I pretty much figured out that's what you wanted when you first told me. After the drugs wore off, and I had time to think more about it, I petty much figured out why you were so scared to tell me, too." 

"And why's that?" 

"Because you think I'm going to blast your ass out of the jungle by fucking you and leaving you, right?" 

"Maybe." 

"No maybe about it, Jim. It's what you think. I have to admit that hurt my feelings a little when I figured it out, but then again, I can't really blame you. After all, my history with women is, well, what it is. You've seen a lot of it first hand." 

"Yeah. It's pretty scary stuff, Chief." 

"You got that right. I guess if I'm honest, I'm a little scared of what all this means myself. I never thought I'd ever find someone who would do it for me for the rest of my life, Jim, ever. It's not because I didn't want it. It's just that it never happened for my mom, so I figured, it'd never happen for me either." 

"But are you saying you want it to happen?" 

"Yeah, if it means I get to be with you, yeah, that's exactly what I'm saying. The thing is do you trust me enough to believe I can do it?" 

"I want to believe, Chief. More than anything." 

Scooting over closer, Blair yawned and rested his body against Jim's. As the larger man pulled back slightly, an arm patted his belly. "Now, don't bolt on me, Jim, but could we try a little hug here? Nothing big to start, maybe a little baby hug or something? I'm really tired all of a sudden." 

"A hug? Okay. I can do that." Jim wrapped his arm around Blair's, careful of the still painful bruises across his back. "Tell me if I hurt you, Chief." 

"I will, Jim. Guess I should warn you ahead of time. I'm a screamer. If it hurts or feels good, you'll know." 

"Damn, Chief." 

Gently, Blair stroked the thigh so near his hand, his voice a hushed whisper, dreamy like a teasing feather. "I promise to be gentle and true, Jim." 

Kissing the top of brown curls, Jim drank in the sweet heat in his arms. "I love you, Blair." 

"Forever, Jim." 

As his partner relaxed against him, the breathing soft and even, Jim swam in the luxury of Blair's touch, his fiery pulse, the springy caresses of his hair against his forearm. His heartbeat became a guiding rhythm for his own. As Blair slept in his arms the sentinel's belief swelled like a storm cloud over a jungle, raining faith across a thick green canopy of doubt. 

The End 


End file.
